Sometimes admiration isn’t about what you think the other person can do for you. Sometimes it’s just about wanting to feel connected to another human. About seeing a sliver of something in someone else and thinking, we’re the same. I’m not alone. With McKenna, online or in person, I feel like I belong.
“Hey there, Flower Girl,” I call as I pad down the steps to her.
“Hey back,” she replies without pulling her head away from her camera.
I watch her shoot for a second, looking forward to when she’ll post the pictures and I can once again see the world from her point of view.
When I reach the edge of the garden, McKenna glances up at me. “What time is it?”
I consult my phone. “Ten twenty-two.”
“Oh, shoot. I have work.” She sighs dramatically and lowers the camera. “Why do I have work?”
I step closer to her—the mineral scent of the dirt and the sweet scent of the flowers thick in the air. “To make money and help you save for your dream.”
“Do you think I can do it?”
“Yeah, I really do.” I drop my hands to her perfect waist. My hands almost fit around her body back to front, but I’m gentle with her. I bring my forehead to hers and stroke my thumbs over her sides until my fingers brush the bottom of her breasts. The intimacy of it—the feel of her skin under mine—makes me go hard for her in the middle of the goddamn garden in broad daylight.
I lower my hands and step back just a hair, unsteady. How does she keep knocking me on my ass just by showing up and being herself?
“I know what I want to do tonight,” she whispers.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
My throat goes dry as I think about the things we’ve been getting up to every night. Yesterday, after burying myself inside McKenna while her friends hung out just two hundred feet away, we made a very awkward return to the beach. Mostly awkward because I’m pretty sure Brooke knows something’s up, but also because that prick Max was waiting for McKenna like a whiny puppy and I had to suffer through the rest of the night with McKenna trying to play hostess without giving the kid the wrong idea.
How can I get her alone and naked again tonight without interruptions? How can I show her everything she means to me?
McKenna drops her gaze to my shoulders and then back to my face. She looks almost shy. “Will you take me to get a tattoo? As soon as I get off of work? I’ve had an appointment for a while now.”
I blink at her in surprise. With her smooth skin and ocean eyes, she never struck me as the tattoo kind of girl. But, yeah, I can see it. She’s got that wild streak, a way of questioning the rules until you come to see how stupid they are in the first place.
“Of course I’ll take you.”
“Thanks.” She rocks onto her toes to kiss my cheek, then walks to the side of the house and rinses off her hands with water from the hose. “What are you going to do today?” she calls over the noise.
“Pine for you, probably. Maybe get a burger.” I shrug. “One or the other.”
McKenna grins at that, shakes her head at me before heading inside to get dressed for work.
I’d love to let the day be just another carefree day when I don’t do anything except think about fucking McKenna and then actually fuck her, but there’s another item on my to-do list for today. Before any of the fun stuff, there’s business to take care of.
* * *
“Welcome back, stranger. For a minute I thought I scared you away.” Susie shoots me a quick glance over the check-in counter at Sandcastle Athletics, her eyes narrowed like she’s not sure if me showing up for the first time in almost ten days is a truce.
“Nah.” I rub a hand over the back of my head. “I’m pretty persistent. And I’d miss the smell of gym socks too much to stay away long.”
She cracks a smile. “The socks are what do it for you, huh?”
“Yep.”
There’s an awkward little silence, and I clear my throat. Susie is practice for the conversation I need to have with Hailey—whenever the hell my ex decides to return my we need to talk texts—and as much as it pains me to bring up the elephant in the room, I need a dry run to make sure I can do this right. Hailey hasn’t responded to me yet, and I’m starting to realize how shitty it feels to be the one kept waiting, but at least I put it out there. We both need closure so we can move on. And I need to be ready when she finally responds.
I grip the edge of the counter and offer Susie an apologetic smile. “So listen, I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea about me, or whatever.”
“No, no.” Susie bites out a nervous laugh. “That was on me. Didn’t know you were seeing someone.”
Seeing someone. Crushing on someone. Falling for someone.
The kiss Susie interrupted was the one that triggered it all, but I’d be lying if I said the falling for McKenna part hadn’t been happening for weeks by then. It’s still happening, if I’m being honest, but just because I don’t want to date Susie doesn’t mean I don’t like having her around. Avoiding her isn’t going to turn her back into my friend, though. Putting the past behind us is.
I nod at Susie. “It’s all good. Are we cool?”
She flicks her eyes over my shoulder and then back at me. “As long as you go show that teenager how to deadlift without breaking his neck.”
I scan the room and find the kid she’s talking about—a scrawny high schooler with a bad haircut and a barbell that must weigh as much as he does.
“Yeah.” I nod and give Susie a little two-finger salute. “I’m on it. No one’s lifting with bad form on my watch.”
She breaks into a grin and slaps her hand on the counter like a punctuation mark. Sentence complete. Discussion finished. “Then we’re cool.”
My shoulders drop with relief, and I stride across the tiny gym toward the kid. One awkward conversation down. One to go.
* * *
I’ve spent more hours in tattoo parlors than some people have spent fucking their wives or practicing to get their driver’s licenses, but somehow walking into the converted church that’s now Voodoo Tattoo makes me more nervous than a hundred question math test or making a speech onstage.
I don’t want McKenna to hurt, but no matter what I do, it’s going to happen.
McKenna, though, doesn’t seem fazed by the bright lights of the tattoo parlor or the high whine of the needles from the other artist in the shop. She looks like she’s about to have a transformative experience.
Actually, I guess she is.
A guy my age with a sleeve full of old-school sailor tattoos greets us at the door. He introduces himself as Tommy and leads us to a table at the back of the building. Artwork and photographs cover the walls of the old church-turned-shop, turning the building into a shrine to beauty, and the stained glass window high overhead depicts an angel with open palms looking down on us like a guardian. It’s too dark outside to get the full effect, but still. If you’re going to have a near-religious experience, I guess this is the place to do it.
Tommy waves at me and McKenna to sit down, then grabs a third chair for himself and pulls it to the table. He sits on it backward and glances at us. “So, what are we doing for you today?”
McKenna removes a printout from the back pocket of her shorts and unfolds it to reveal a bunch of flowers. “I want a small bouquet on my ribs.”
“In color?”
“Yeah.”
The guy nods. “Okay. Let me take a look at your skin and I’ll draw something up for you.”
McKenna lifts the side of her shirt without hesitation, revealing smooth, gorgeous skin and the edge of her tiny pink bikini.
Is it stupid that I get jealous? That I want her to put her shirt back on?
Tommy’s clinical enough as he studies his canvas, and he keeps glancing over at me like he thinks I’ll pull something if he gets too close.
Good. Let him be nervous.
When he escapes to the back room to draw up some art, I lean closer to McKenna
. “I like that suit on you.”
Her eyes dance. “Why do you think I wear it so much?”
Damn.
She turns away and leaves me speechless, and Tommy comes back with a stencil before I can respond. He asks McKenna to take her shirt all the way off, and my shoulders go tense. I never really cared about her wearing a bikini on the beach, but it feels different, here, with another man touching her. It feels different knowing this is the last time this part of her body will look the same.
Isn’t that strange? I don’t think about my own skin that I can’t see anymore, thanks to my tattoos, or about the way I made a choice to do something permanent and never looked back. I’ve always wanted my tattoos to look like they’re part of me. Like they were revealed rather than placed there. Like they belong.
Maybe McKenna feels that way, too.
Tommy transfers the stencil to McKenna’s skin, and she studies herself with bright eyes in a floor-length mirror propped against the wall. She approves the placement and then lies on her side on the table.
Tommy hovers over her and snaps on a pair of gloves. “This your first ink?”
Her cheeks go pink. “Yeah.”
He nods but doesn’t offer judgment, just gestures at my arms. “Looks like you brought the right guy with you to keep watch.”
McKenna beams at me. “I sure did.”
Tommy picks up the needle, and the sight of it makes every protective instinct in me scream. This is part of the process, though. Do something a little dangerous to get amazing rewards.
As the artist leans over McKenna, I bounce my leg, trying to shake loose some of my nervous energy. Tommy kills the needle and glares at me.
“Tell your boyfriend to quit tapping his foot or I’m going to kick him out.”
Instead of being upset, McKenna’s face shines, and I realize what the guy said.
Boyfriend.
I try it on and it fits, and my throat goes so thick it’s hard to breathe.
Boyfriend.
The thing I didn’t know I wanted until McKenna showed me I couldn’t live without it. The person I didn’t know I could be until McKenna showed me I was enough just the way I am.
I stop bouncing my leg and blow out a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Good,” Tommy says, but he’s not really in the room anymore. It’s just me and McKenna and our two hearts, out there in the shimmering air, vibrating as fast as tattoo needles.
“You ready?” Tommy asks.
McKenna reaches for my hand. Even as she speaks, she keeps her eyes on me. “I’m ready.”
I hold on tight as the needle whines again. “Tell me about the flowers,” I say to distract her. “Why these ones?”
McKenna’s face changes the minute the needle hits her skin—her cheeks turn pale and tears spring to the corner of her eyes. But she doesn’t flinch and she doesn’t move. She just looks at me like I can keep her safe, like this is what love is, and in this moment, it’s exactly what we both need.
“Sweet peas for pleasure,” she says, her voice shaking only a little. “Gladiolus for remembrance.” Then she smiles at me, big and open and hopeful, and I know right then she will always own a piece of me. “And peonies for a happy life.”
My head and my heart.
My girl.
This is what love is.
No matter what happens, part of me is always going to be hers.
27
McKenna
July
Blake and I are asleep in his bed when there’s the sound of footsteps on the stairs. The bedroom door creaks and a draft of air blows across my face. I’m aware of the sounds—of the sensation of my hair drifting around my face—but it’s all part of a dream until I hear, “Holy fuck.” And then my skin prickles a warning and Blake unwraps his perfect arms from around my waist.
From my spot in the bed, I stare into the flinty eyes of a pretty blonde.
“What the fuck is this?” A muscle twitches in her jaw, and she jams a hand onto her hip, her mouth pursed.
My heart slams so hard I’m almost positive she can see it, and ice water spills down my back.
Hailey.
There’s no other explanation for the woman standing in Blake’s bedroom, and my stomach lurches like I might puke.
Blake springs away from me, and Hailey’s eyes unlock from mine. Flash to the movement.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Blake demands, his face a dark storm brewing.
Hailey swings her gaze back and forth between us for a second and then opens her mouth to speak.
“Hailey? Everything okay?”
Oh, god. My mom’s in the kitchen, her footsteps heading toward the stairs.
Hailey snaps her mouth closed and the air is quicksand and I can’t breathe.
I jump out of bed and reach for the tank top I left next to Blake’s bedside table last night. I throw it over the bralette I wore to bed, wincing as the fabric brushes against my raw skin.
Panic claws across my chest and tears spring to my eyes.
Why did this have to happen? Why now?
My mom bursts into the room just a minute after Hailey, and Blake’s still shoving on a pair of shorts and the. world. stops.
“What’s going on?” my mom asks, a little breathless from the stairs. Her eyes narrow at the sight of the three of us, locked in a silent battle. Blake half naked. Me wearing skimpy clothes and excuses.
It’s like Hailey can’t even hear my mom. She just looks at us with something shocked and sad and angry in her eyes. “Were you sleeping together?”
My heart is in my knees and my throat at the same time, which I’m not even sure is possible, but it feels like I’m splitting apart. Like there are two aching centers of me, weakening, numb.
I scramble for words. “There was a thunderstorm last night and I was scared.”
I wince at my own pathetic excuse.
No one believes me because there wasn’t a storm and I am a fucking liar and they know. They know. I can see it on their faces.
My mom’s wide eyes.
Hailey’s scowl.
For a second I have this desperate hope that Blake will tell them we’re together. That he’ll stand up for us and put all the weeks of uncertainty to rest.
I shoot a terrified glance over my shoulder at him, but he looks frozen and devastated and guilty as hell.
Guilty because he’s been fucking me in my family’s house while he’s supposed to be family too.
Guilty because he hasn’t set things straight with the woman he left behind.
I can see it all on his face because I know him. And because I know him—and because it’s happening to me too—I know he’s shredding apart in this claustrophobic room.
“Kids?”
All of us freeze for a second, and then my mom springs into action. With one last look at the room, she turns to intercept Jim, and my heart cracks a little when I realize what she’s doing.
Giving us a minute to get our shit together. Giving us a chance to protect this fragile illusion of control.
We’re caught. We’re caught. We’re caught.
I don’t want to know what the fallout’s going to be.
I don’t want to think about how much this is going to hurt.
My mom’s voice drifts up from outside, falsely bright. “Jim! Let’s give the kids a minute to catch up.”
The kids.
Jesus.
Just the words knock a hole in my chest.
Kids like I’m not old enough to know what I want.
Kids like this isn’t the kind of decision I could have made.
My mom murmurs something incomprehensible to my stepdad, but whatever she says must work, because I hear gravel scattering out in the yard and their voices drift away.
Inside the room, we don’t breathe.
Hailey hesitates for a second, her lower lip trembling. Then she bolts out the door and slams down the stairs.
“Hailey, wait!” Blake’
s face is panic and ruin, and he doesn’t even look at me before he runs after her.
The floor wobbles under my feet, and I bend over and place my hands on my knees to gasp for breath. Everything’s shaking apart like we’re in the middle of an earthquake. Every moment Blake and I built together is being yanked away.
Through the open bedroom door, I can hear Blake and Hailey in the living room. Their voices sound muffled and foggy through the floor between us, like this could somehow be a dream, but it’s bitingly real.
I pad out of the room and crouch at the top of the stairs to eavesdrop like a child. I wrap my arms around my waist, and my body shakes from cold and adrenaline.
“What the hell, Hailey? Why are you here?”
“This wasn’t a conversation we could have on the phone. Not something this important.”
“But you had to tell my parents?”
“I didn’t tell them anything. I just asked them for help.” Hailey’s voice shakes, and I cringe at the intimacy of it. “You didn’t just cut me off from you, Blake. You cut me off from them, too. This wasn’t over. You didn’t give us a chance.”
There’s an anguished groan from the man I love and heavy footsteps like he’s pacing the room.
I hold my breath and wait for Blake’s reply.
“Do you know what you did to me? I spent all those weeks in rehab just waiting to come home to you, and then I had to find you…” He breaks off, and the heartbreak in his voice kills me.
Whatever happened, Blake loved her.
I know he’s happy now, but I don’t know if that’s the same as being happy enough to walk away from her. And I don’t know if I can ask him to.
“What do you want me to do to prove how sorry I am? What do you want, Blake?”
His voice is so low I can barely hear it. “I want to be the guy who does the right thing.”
Step Summer Page 16
